Tag Archives: self portrait

To Life!

Spill me o’er the crystal falls where eons stretch to hold!
Kindly beckon courage from the iron will in stories told!

Grant me one last flight on wings above the alpine valleys low!
Spill my heart between the seams where mountain shadowed waters flow!

Dance my spirit o’er stormy tops in fields of azure skies!
Dash the color from the wounds there left beneath these fading eyes!

For all that I experience,
I am the subtle cause!
For all that I endure through life,
still grows a purpose from the loss!

Oh! Bathe me white in frozen streams!
Echo hearts’ resplendent joys!
Although I’ll leave as silvered man,
I lived here as a boy!

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Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Carousel

Carousel.PNG

Standing in a summer’s mist,
early morning heat and dew,
a carousel abandoned,
ebbing from a fairground’s stew.

Echoes of calliope,
hushed in rusting pipes,
risen by the subtle breeze,
groans in tempered gripes.

Soprano tinseled screams escape
the platform’s gentle rolling,
whispers stitched among the chants,
Gregorian and tolling.

O’er the stays of canvas frayed,
reds and blues tease gently, torn,
rounding boards ornate and wide,
tarnished crackle, sadly worn.

Leaden mirrored center blinds,
ghostly grey and steel,
stirring passing images,
tintype memories, laughter’s squeal.

Oaken massive platform stained
with seasoned mud and puddled rain,
rusting mounts of tired ponies,
saddened in their lonely pain.

Dare I not to step aboard,
as history’s watch is mercy’s keeping,
so gather witness to my soul,
for all my childhood dreams there sleeping.

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Filed under Dreams, History, Memory, Perspective, Poetry

Visible

Silent now, this moment’s pause, bathed in ochre’s tinge of red,
revealing histories’ flaxen stitch, stretched through pin pricks long since bled.
Day lies still around me, ‘cross rustic echoes this past enfolds,
suspends my eye along the line where every memory’s story is told.

I strain to squint the long line down, a temporal horizon revealed,
yet danced in distorted ecstatic shapes, reducing truth so sought, concealed…

Exposing the gaps of life amongst lives…
Of image, of thought, of stories told…
Sketching loose, unveiling shadows,
Stretched between these temporal poles.

The past is vaguely visible…

So turn I from the yesterdays, grasping light in shadows long,
steel my courage, step and stride, so move along the path I’m on.
Histories’ echoes flit by, sparrows on the vented dusk,
call to me on whispered wings, “tomorrow waits within your trust”.

Summer’s acrid dusty road gives rise to verdant scent of pine,
drifts upon the chirping rill, across the lea ebbed from my mind…
Graced upon a hope and faith, sustained from whence I’ve come,
the future beckon’s naught from past, but draws from me all that I sum…

In image, thought, stories dreamed,
Loosely sketched between the seams,
Of birth and death, what can be known,
Between the temporal poles here shown…

The future dream quite visible…

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Filed under Dreams, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Ink Me!

quill-and-ink

This page defies my aching pen, smears the blotted stain I rend from out its holy genie’s lamp, cold and coughing, moist and damp… yet here between each stolen pause, I dance, I sing, I gestate cause to linger long in separation, bound to morsel’s reparation caught between elixir’s truth… sipped again, glazed in proof…. Aha!

“Page me!” yet again I yell, toward this staggered nib and well, “Page me past this floundered try that calls tomorrow’s post I cry!”

Turning toward another blank white sheet of hope, in blue lined rank, I stagger from this drunken poise to still the fire, quell the noise that drifts in hints of winter’s wind around the quill and errant pen…

“Ink me, please kind muse of love! Ink my hand, my soiled dove that draws a drunken prayer poor, draws past lust and sullen whores! Ink me!!!!”

Alas the cloud of rum and lust have rendered useless this book and stuff, that tho’ I carry where e’er I’m bound, tonight just spirit can be found, and so I turn to cork and crook, stay the pen, close the book and drink until all’s taken back, the words, the rhyme, the poem in slack… drink me!

Prompt by dVerse poets pub https://dversepoets.com/.
Our host, Lillian, asked that we write a poem and “verbify”. Basically creating a verb out of a noun, or some other element of grammar. I managed to get a little carried away.
Enjoy!

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Filed under Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Autumnal Equinox (a dream)

Disappearing in a haze of dusk, evening barters with a lingered musk of autumn’s creeping, burgeoned hope, early setting sun just lopes effortless toward the horizon.

Quiet calm throughout these woods, grants a peace to what I would, or should endeavor for my rest, yawning pleasures bring the best of what such dreams might lean on.

Steady turning, shadows fade, to echoed angels in the shade where once my summer’s heat escaped, to feel the cooling taste of grapes, in tiny luscious nectars.

Now just stretching leaves and vines, along the fence, defending signs that summer’s never out of reach, but autumn’s hold on summer breached the failing season’s vector.

My eyes grow heavy, my body, rest, and to the day I give my best to hold on just an hour more, but calmly find I’m nodding off in silent sweeps of evening’s thought that bends my head toward the floor.

So in peaceful sacrifice, surrender comes to be my wife and guide me to an early bed, where calmly call the cricket’s stead, to sleep and dream once more.

Autumn comes in subtle shades where summer’s scent is gently played to perfumes of a sweeter musk, time and aging, so I trust, will call me home to sleep.

That there upon my wakening, cooling sun and shape of things that beckon kind a hint of fall, bring to me another call of years still yet to keep.

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Filed under Autumn, Dreams, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Autumn Hint

Moments dance in brittle waves, sparks between the autumn leaves, staining soft the shadowed hints of summer’s slow goodbye.

Dusk defines this edge in time, a poignant blush against the thread of season’s change, such sad lament, soft rose in deeper shadow hides.

Focus fades, day succumbs, autumn’s early eve draws cool, wraps a hint between the stars, appearing one or two.

Pull the night shade lastly, here, strain thine eyes to find the lines, hidden midst the whispered hush, summer’s secret stretched o’er time.

Clinging to the eloquent, flagging in the memory, drifting in the season spent, dreaming toward the one to be.

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Filed under Nature, Perspective

The Physics of Aging

It calls,
I refuse,
but the rest of me follows…
into the grey with pock marked skin,
wrinkles defining a last bastion of defiance.

I win so many,
those little battles…
losing weight,
gaining strength,
outwitting the youngers,

but then it calls me…
pulls me along a path that I can neither define, nor resist…
strange aches at dawn,
gasps of pain that I’ve never felt there before…
sits my healthy ass down with a plop,
gives me a cane to rise again,
jeers at me…

knowledge overcomes the fear;
studious adaptations,
modified living,
physical therapy…
I win again.

It’s waiting for my confidence to build,
for my testosterone driven libido to stand just a bit too proudly…
then it will call me.

I know this game,
now.

Newton had it right…
“a body in motion remains in motion
until it is acted upon by an external force”.

Aging…

the physics of it entertain,
yet annoy,
try my patience and courage,
shake my confidence
yet stir iron will from my soul.

I heard someone say once,
“aging isn’t for the faint of heart”,
or maybe it was something like,
“only the courageous grow old”…
either way, they’re both right.

It calls,
I‘m forced to listen,
forced to learn…

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Filed under Perspective, Poetry